(no subject)
Title: Sweet Valley (Pt. 3)
Pairing/Characters: C/Z(?), OCs, Mr. and Mrs. Connor
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Author's Note: I'm basing a lot of this story on my OWN experiences, including the invites, camaraderie and lesson learned as a young middle-schooler. Trying to capture it best I can. :)
Synopsis: A late contribution to ASD's 'Summer of Us' Challenge, as promised. Prompt #19, "Fruitpicking"... The summer before senior year, Casey finds some worth in taking on a new, promising and enlightening journey into the real world.
Previous Parts
June 29th
Mrs. Connor looked up from the kitchen counter and smiled at Casey, who entered the kitchen with a yawn. “I was just about to wake you up,” she said. “I thought you'd sleep in.”
“N'aw, the alarm went off. What're...” Casey sighed as he looked at her hands, which were bagging Oreos. His almost-full lunch-bag sat nearby. “Mom, I told you I'd make my own... you were tired last night.”
“I know, I know... but, well...” she said. With a shrug, she packed the cookies in with everything else and zipped everything shut. “I'm your mother. It's my job to worry myself to death over nothing at all.”
His mother's sweet words made Casey glad he hadn't gone buck-wild that past Friday. She'd stayed up waiting for his return, of course, and had been happy that he'd gotten in fifteen minutes early.
“Who drove you home?” she'd asked. “It was a nice car.”
“Zeke. I know him... from school,” was all Casey had said on that subject before stretching and wishing her goodnight. After cleaning himself up and changing for bed, he'd gotten under the sheet and lie there, eyes open, unable to sleep. Jerking-off had sounded like a good idea, but he was too tired... too tired, too awake. It was simply a time to relax... reflect. With his new schedule, he'd spent some of the weekend in his pajama shorts watching TV, snacking and going online. His parents didn't protest.
Though most of the weekend, even with the TV blaring and the occasional, “Come eat, honey,” from his mother had been spent deep in thought. By Saturday night, he'd had enough energy to shut the lights off and masturbate, making the process long to enjoy the feeling. All the while in Casey's mind, it'd been Zeke's hands moving over his body, stroking his hard, tortured shaft and jutting nipples. Casey gave himself a 'first time' in turning onto his side to finger himself, to push his finger in as far as it'd go. He'd forced himself to stop thinking that he'd be alone forever, and the only way he'd be able to get at that 'sweet spot' of nerves would be through using a dildo... no. He'd find that special-someone, someday. Even if it'd end up being someone other than Zeke, he'd be happy.
If he DID end up with Zeke, he'd be happier.
“Honey, don't let all the cold out.”
Casey snapped out of his reverie; he hadn't realized that he'd returned to deep-thinking in the middle of his looking for a bottle of juice to take with him for breakfast. “Sorry,” he said, grabbed the closest orange juice and shut the fridge door. He went to his mother's side, took the lunch to stuff into his backpack and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
“See you when you get home, swee--”
The loud honk! from outside made them both jerk their heads toward the front of the house. Mrs. Connor frowned. “Who's blasting their horn like that at six-thirty in the morning?”
'Oh god,' Casey thought as he rushed to the front door and peeked through the window next to it. The pure, unbridled excitement he felt in seeing the GTO sitting by the curb would be hard to hide. He managed to choke it down to yell, “Just Zeke, guess he's giving me a ride in!”
“Well, that's nice, but tell him to come to the door next time, instead of waking up the whole neighborhood!”
Casey knew she wasn't really mad. In fact, she was probably as pleased as HE was, having a friend... if that's what Zeke, in fact, was. He called out one last, “G'bye!” before opening the door and rushing down the stairs and walk to the car.
“Morn',” Zeke said in a tired voice, sipping a Dunks coffee. Before Casey could even get in, he continued, “I didn't know what you liked, but it was iced, creamed and sugared, from what I remember.”
Blinking wildly, Casey took his seat, shut the door then looked to the offering Zeke was handing him. “Oh,” he said as he took the iced coffee. “Thanks... a lot, really.”
“Mmm,” was Zeke's version of 'You're welcome,' apparently.
~*~
Either Zeke hadn't cared or had actively avoided Casey their first week for whatever reason, but that was different now. Instead of going to a row of fruit clear across the other side of the field, Zeke, very simply and without a word, chose to work the blueberry bushes next to Casey's. They started the day off quietly, though Casey was bursting at the seams on the inside.
'Stop reading into shit,' he murmured in his mind. However nice Zeke had started acting toward Casey, that didn't mean they'd be sucking each other's dicks off in the GTO during lunch. The idea was appealing, of course...
“Psst!”
Casey looked up to find Desmond reaching past his row to Zeke's; he held something out to him, waving it. “What?” Zeke said as he reached over and took it.
“Pass to Casey,” Desmond said. He answered Zeke's questioning stare with an incredulous, 'how the hell should I know?' expression and heavy shrug. Zeke blinked, turned and looked from Casey to the note.
“Is that for me?” Casey said.
“Uh huh.”
“Who's it from?”
Zeke shrugged, made light pop!s with his lips then proceeded to unfold it. “Let's find out.”
“Zeke! If it's for me--”
“Aw,” Zeke interrupted with a coo, a big smile on his face. “'Dear Casey... sorry for fighting at the party. Can you forgive me?' A smiley-face, then heart, 'Charlene'.”
“Yea, thanks.” Casey ripped it from Zeke's hand and shoved it, awkward and unfolded into his pocket. Zeke giggled-outright giggled.
“It's goin' around that she's so motherfuckin' embarrassed,” he said.
“She should be. She's the one who started it... one beer too many, really,” Casey replied, returning to the bush he'd been working on.
“Does that mean Becks there has a chance?” Zeke asked.
“Becca?” Casey sighed when Zeke nodded. “I... I'm not interested.”
“In her, or in general?” Zeke asked next.
“Came here to work, not fuck around on the job,” Casey answered.
“'Doesn't mean you can't plan shit on days-off. I say go for it,” Zeke said.
They picked and plucked away, going quiet again. Casey hoped his silence wouldn't be read the way it could be; Zeke was too intuitive, however, proving it when he asked, “You ever BEEN on a date, Connor?”
“Me?”
“I said 'Connor', right?”
The answer should've been known without asking. Casey scoffed and said, “No,” pointedly.
“I'd figured but still-it's not like we've hung out in school. You coulda been getting action somewhere other than Harrowington,” Zeke said.
“'Harrowington'? Hah, hadn't heard THAT one.”
“'Cos I'm the one who came up with it. Creative, huh?”
“Eh. It's a word that goes over the 'Duh, Huh?' jocks, anyway.”
“Got my eye on a piece o' tail myself, y'know,” Zeke said. Casey stilled, the fingers holding the plumpest blueberry he'd seen yet over the pint he filled.
“Uh... who?” he asked through the growing lump in his throat.
“That girl-Danni? Friend of one of the chicks who wanted in your pants.” Zeke shrugged and put a filled pint down, then got another. “Nice ass-and wears her hair in fuckin' braids. That's so parochial. Hot.”
Of course it was, to someone like Zeke... ultra-hetero, masculine manly-boy-man... Casey sniffed hard and tried acting casual. “Next you're gonna say 'let's double-date'.”
Zeke chuckled and leaned in past the bush Casey was at. “Fuckin' kidding, Case. Braids? Give me a goddamned break.” He bent back to keep working, while Casey's body relaxed, butterflies in his stomach and all.
“So which chick would you do here?” Casey asked brashly.
“Pfft, notta-one. Don't get me wrong, they're not trolls or anything... just not what I'm looking for,” Zeke replied. “So-if Becks is out, who's in?”
“Y'mean, who would I go for?” Casey asked. What could he say? 'Having YOU 'in' would be nice, actually,'? Definitely not. Casey settled on the only answer he could... “Girls are too 'drama' for me, for the most part. So I'm with you here-nobody.”
Though Zeke was behind the bush next to Casey, he stuck his fist out from the side of it, holding it out for Casey to bump his against. Casey did, chuckling.
~*~
“Guys-over here!”
Ben's calling out made Casey and Zeke look over. A group had gathered under the shade of an oak; Ben smiled and said, “Come over here and chill!”
“'K,” Casey said. He went to walk over but stopped when he realized Zeke wasn't with him. Looking back, he saw Zeke lighting a cigarette and turning to the lot instead. “You wanna... go sit with 'em to eat?”
“My chips are in the car, and I'd rather have the AC blasting in my face,” Zeke replied.
“I'll share my lunch. Mom packed enough to feed everyone,” Casey said. “C'mon. It's probably nice in the shade-and you DID say the air-conditioner was acting up.”
“I'm enjoying it while I can. Thanks anyway, go have fun.”
Casey felt torn; Zeke was leaving him behind, while the others wanted him around. He looked between the two options then bit his lip. “I'm gonna go cool-off in the car, guys-I'll come by before it's over!”
“Okay, that's cool,” Ben said, still smiling and turning to the others to continue laughing and talking with them. It made Casey feel a bit guilty, but he'd made the decision. Zeke needed to accept his company, and something to eat, for god's sake.
But when Casey reached the GTO, he found Zeke standing in the opened driver's side door wearing a frown. “Why didn't you go sit with Ben and them?” he asked.
“Cos'. You didn't feel like it, and that'd make you alone,” Casey said.
“So? I like it alone. Go over there, get some socialization while you still can.”
The comment made Casey's lashes flutter fast. Instead of following the instruction, he continued over to the passenger side, opened the door and sat. “Nothing wrong with choosing to sit with you instead, is there?” he asked while unzipping his lunch-bag. “You can have half of my sand--”
“Casey, just go. Okay?” Zeke interrupted. He sounded annoyed, but desperate at the same time. Casey turned his eyes to the boy, staring at him blankly.
“Why?”
Zeke let out a hard sniff and took a drag-deeply, while shaking his head. “They're your friends.”
“Yea, and YOUR friends, too. So...?” Casey said.
“So you should spend time with 'em. You said yourself on the drive home Friday... you never want it to end, but it will. Before you know it, we're back in that hellhole,” Zeke said.
“Like we'll never see Ben and them again. C'mon...”
“Might not. You should know that, and if you don't, know it now.”
All Casey could do was look away to his lap. If he wasn't wanted, he wasn't wanted, and he had to do his best to not be offended. He was still wary about Zeke's predictions... it hurt, however untrue Casey found them. “Fine,” he murmured.
Zeke sighed as Casey opened the door and got out. “We'll hang on the drive home, 'k?”
Casey made a tiny nod, one that Zeke couldn't have seen from behind. His coming upon the group made them look up and smile.
“That was quick,” Ben said.
“Yea... I tried bringing Zeke over, but he's grumpy about something. He said to say 'sorry',” Casey lied. He didn't want the group to be saddened with Zeke's indifference. Ben shrugged, looking his usual chipper self.
“S'okay. So... Des' here says you got a note?”
“Oh, Christ...” Casey chortled with the others, reopening his bag and getting his thermos out. He'd been hungry mere minutes ago, but the small pit in his stomach made him rethink stuffing himself now. As it turned out, another issue came up that distracted him from eating, in the form of Becca wandering over. Her fingers held onto the handle of her plaid-printed lunchbox, eyes set on Casey; she looked insecure, her lower lip being gnawed.
“Oh... hey, Becca,” one of the girls in the group, Lisa, said.
“Hey, Lise. What's up, guys?”
Generic replies came. It was obvious what was going to happen, everyone making quick, secret glances between Casey and the girl. Sure enough, Becca cleared her throat, nodded behind her and asked, “Casey, can I... talk to you?”
All Casey wanted to do was deny Becca in favor of a pleasant lunch, but he had pondered the idea of making amends. He nodded and stood, taking his meal with him. “Be back,” he told the group-again.
Becca made a miniscule smile as they walked off to the edge of the blackberry patches. Her expression shifted back to uncertainty, however, going back to lip-biting and staring at the ground. With her hands clasping behind her back, lunchbox bumping against her behind as they walked, she said, “I'm really sorry about Friday. I shouldn't have gone crazy, fought-and stuff. She... Charlene there, she just got me so mad.”
“I know. And I know it was her that got the fight going. I'm not mad at either of you, really,” Casey replied.
“Still, it was so stupid. I'm glad... you're forgiving enough, though,” she said. Her grin returned and she finally looked to him instead of averting her gaze. “Thanks. It's been bugging the crap outta me all weekend. If I had your number, I would've called.”
“Like I said, it's okay,” Casey said.
Becca made her gaze at him shy, her cheeks growing pink. “That... was kinda a hint. Wanna sit over there?”
The weird subject-switching confused Casey. “Huh?”
“That spot under the tree.”
“Oh.” He looked to where she pointed. No one else had settled in the spot, raising suspicions. “Um, okay.”
They were soon sitting together under the limbs and leaves, Casey keeping a little distance while still facing her. Becca unpacked the box, revealing half a peanut butter sandwich, Goldfish crackers and juice box, nothing more. Casey frowned, the contrast between his meal and her's making him ask, “That's not much, is it?”
“Oh. Well, no, but... I woke up kinda late, and we only had one piece of bread left. Dad didn't have time to do grocery shopping last night, so this was basically a slap-grab kinda thing,” she replied.
'You are so, so, fucking, stupid,' Casey berated himself in his mind. Having an attentive mother worrying over the vitamins and minerals in Casey's diet at a constant made him lucky. Some people his age didn't get to enjoy that-like Zeke. He should have known better; he wondered if her parents were divorced, if her dad worked late nights without the time to tend to his daughter's needs... “Well, I've got like, five-hundred grapes. I'll share,” he said, shaking the baggie full of fruit. It made the girl beam at him.
“Sure,” she said brightly.
He knew the offer looked a little boyfriend-girlfriend, but it couldn't be helped. He'd always been good at sharing, especially when someone needed it. Casey didn't stop at the grapes, also letting her have some of the baby carrots his mother had packed. All the while they chattered, pleasant and no-pressure... yet. The expressions on her face ranged from adoration to lost, and she had dropped the hint with the 'number' comment.
Before they knew it, Bill was ringing the bell signifying the end of lunch. The pair stood up, picked up and smiled to each other. “Back to the grind,” Casey said.
“Yea... wait.” Becca held up a hand then let it drop. Again, her eyes wandered everywhere but on Casey, a sigh escaping her lips. “I... I DO like you, and... the number-thing, y'know, I just thought maybe... maybe we...”
Her stammering was painful, especially with the unease Casey felt growing within him. Could he really turn her down, stamp out her hopes? “Sure, we can hang, maybe,” he said in a blurt... nope. Becca looked like she was getting a large gift wrapped in the prettiest paper ever...
“Awesome, yea. Got-got a paper?”
Casey was about to say, “Um, no,” but he did... Charlene's note. Hoping she didn't catch the writing, he whipped it out, nodding and folding it written-side in. “Pen?”
The girl had one in the lunchbox, perhaps for this very reason.
~*~
It was a little uncomfortable heading to the lot, instead of the bus. With how unwelcome Zeke had made Casey feel at lunch, it stood to reason that Casey would feel awkward; even with the implication that they'd 'hang' on the ride home...
But Zeke was there, sitting in front of the wheel with the door propped open, his foot nestled between the frame and corner of the door. He peered through the smoke billowing in front of his face to Casey and nodded. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” Casey replied. He went to the passenger side and got in. “Grateful for the ride.”
“Not a big deal,” Zeke said.
They got a few jealous looks from the crowd getting on the bus; that was a bit satisfying. What wasn't was catching sight of Becca, who was joining her friends in getting her OWN car-ride home, provided by Jasmine. She watched them pass by and waved, exuberant and wearing a huge grin. Casey gave the best smile he could muster back, his waving a little halfhearted.
“Didja change your mind?”
Zeke's question had Casey turn back to him. “About Becca? No, just...”
“I'll bet a grand you guys exchanged numbers.” Zeke smiled around his cigarette and cocked an eyebrow Casey's way. “Eh?”
“Yea. But... it was more outta guilt, not actually... that sounds shitty, doesn't it?”
“Hah, if it shuts her up, use whatever method you can.”
“But it's not like I want her to 'shut up', it's just--”
“Yea ya do.”
Casey hated the fact that Zeke was right. He slumped in his seat and shook his head. “It's not like I wanna hurt people's feelings. Y'know?”
“Never thought you'd be a heart-breaker, huh?” Zeke said. He shook his head as well, sighing. “I say call her tonight for some lame chit-chat, throw her a bone. If you can get it through to her that you want a 'just friends' arrangement, she'll catch on. I've done it a thousand times.”
“Yea, I'm sure.” Casey smirked at Zeke. “I'm new to this, cut me some slack.”
“That's what I'm here for; your own, personal 'Dear Abby' helper.”
All the strange avoidance from that afternoon faded away, letting Casey chuckle hard. “I'd kill to see THAT advice column in the papers. I can see it now... 'Dear Zeke, I'm an older woman who doesn't enjoy sex anymore, what do I do??'... 'Come by my place at eight.'”
Zeke let out a lone, hard laugh before looking to Casey with a Cheshire-Cat grin. “You're such a dork,” he said.
“Well, it's true, am I right?”
“No?”
“Shut up, I've heard about the shit that goes down with you,” Casey said. His tone got cockier in saying, “Ms. Burke ring a bell?”
The last thing Casey expected was the car screeching to a halt on the thankfully-empty road; the car was shot to the side, going over the edge of the pavement and dirt lining it. It made Casey grateful to have put his seat belt on; shocked beyond reason, Casey kept his hand on the oh-shit bar above his head and turned to Zeke. “What the FUCK was that?” he yelled, but he went shock-still when he saw the furious glare Zeke was casting ahead at the road. Even without it being on Casey, he felt the anger in waves, surrounding him and coming close to making him choke on Zeke's inner-raging. “Zeke...?”
A deep, hot breath went in, then out... “Out of everything, that's the one that pisses. Me off. The most,” Zeke haltingly said through gritted teeth.
“Huh? Out of... what?”
“Scads of rumors go around about you y'know. Ever heard the one about you 'servicing' the whole football team, treating them to blow-jobs at some party?” Zeke finally turned to look at him. “Well?”
The supposed insult of 'queer!' or 'ya fag!' had been tossed at Casey many times in his life, but he hadn't caught wind of this tall-tale. “N-No?” he said in a stutter.
“Really? So you DIDN'T get that drunk? Yea, see, I knew it was bullshit, I even fuckin' told Gabe it was when he was spewing his bullshit in the locker room. Because if there's one thing I fucking loathe, it's knowing that you're being gossiped about, LIED about,” Zeke told Casey in a firm, almost growling voice.
Casey did his best to recover, to come up with a reply. He finally settled on one, being, “How... how am I supposed to know you didn't? You HAVE gotten with girls, I know that much! I mean... really.”
“So my sleeping with two girls gives everyone license to make shit up about me? TWO chicks and I'm a man-slut fucking a teacher. Yea, thanks, Casey-and here I thought you were a nice boy all this time.”
This was unreal. They'd gone from chuckling and joking to this-this raging and angst and fury. Casey opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was jolted back and forth again when Zeke tore off back onto the road, speeding up to fifty-five within seconds. “Z-Zeke, slow down, speed limit's th-thirty...”
“The faster I go, the less likely I kick you outta the car and let you walk your ass home.”
“Zeke! For real, stop it!” Casey yelled, but the sound of tires speeding on dirt behind them made him whip his head around. His jaw dropped at the sight of a police car coming after them, lights on and siren kicking-in; it'd been hiding in the wheat field, ready and waiting to snag a berry-picking teenager for whatever offense they committed.
“Should I try and outrun 'im?” Zeke asked. The hint of a snide smirk perked a corner of Zeke's lips, eyes darting from the windshield to the rear-view.
“Zeke...”
The one-worded pleading in Casey's voice did the trick, it seemed-or Zeke hadn't planned on starting a car-chase that'd land them on every news channel this side of the Mississippi after all. He slowed to a crawl then pulled over onto the dirt again, put the car into park and sat back. It was then that the bus Casey usually took home passed by; every person on it was staring out at them with great interest, even the driver. Casey sank in his seat and groaned. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Hello, boys.” The policeman, wearing the typical cop-sunglasses and stout stomach leaned down to look at them through Zeke's window. “Not exactly the way you wanna end the workday, is it?”
“There are worse ways,” Zeke boldly replied.
“Mmm, like driving off the road and becoming 'one' with the asphalt. Clocked you in at fifty-six in a thirty, young man. Driver's license, proof of insurance and registration, please.”
Zeke didn't put up a bit of fuss, complying with the order. All forms were handed to the man, who made a quick nod and sniffed. He then looked across Zeke to Casey. “I'd like to see your ID as well, young man,” he said.
“Huh?”
“License, learner's permit, work permit...?”
Casey's heart raced as he looked to his bag where his wallet was. It held a meager amount of identification, being his library card and student ID. “I... I h-have my student ID? That's-about it.”
“That's fine,” the cop said.
'Oh god...' Casey reached to the pack, dug around and finally produced his wallet. The ID was plucked out and handed over.
“You boys sit tight. I'll be back in a few.”
That was all they could do-sit tight. Casey slumped even lower in his seat and let his head fall back, hard. “I'm dead,” he said. Zeke frowned.
“Huh? The fuck are you talking about?”
“Dead. I'm dead. He's gonna call my parents or some shit, or--”
“Shut the living fuck up,” Zeke blurted. “He ain't gonna call your stupid parents, you idiot. He's just gonna check whatever record you have to see if you've served time for selling meth or whatever other shit.”
“YOU have a clean record... right?” Casey asked with all the doubt in the world.
“Are you asking if I'm a famous drug-dealing criminal, Casey? Go on, ask it; see how hard I can toss you out of this car.”
“I'm not-fuck's sake...”
“Speeding tickets, that's it. Now shut the hell up.”
Casey did. No more words were spoken, just Zeke chainsmoking and Casey's stomach rolling over and around and inside-out, until finally the policeman returned. “Seems you've got a thing for speed, Mr. Tyler.” He tore off a ticket from his small clipboard and handed it over. “I'm giving you a ticket for another speeding offense, fifty-six in a thirty. If you want to contest it, you have thirty days to file a court date...”
It was all a blur, especially when Casey caught a look at the ticket; he almost lurched forward and puked, seeing the figure, $260. With all the cordiality in the world, Zeke said, “Good day to you, Officer,” stuffed everything back into the glove compartment and his wallet then put the car in drive. The cop made another curt nod and went back to his squad car.
They were back on the road, with Zeke taking it slow this time around. Guilt piled up in Casey, just as fast and quick as Zeke's intial speed-away had been. “I'm sorry, Zeke,” he said in a barely-audible voice. He curled his arms around his chest as he continued, “I'll pay half. It's half my fault, so--”
“It wasn't your fault at all. Shut up.”
“But I pissed you off, and--”
“Casey just shut the fuck up,” Zeke came close to bellowing. This did, indeed, do the trick. All Casey could do for the next twenty minutes was stare blankly through his window at the scenery, from fields to highway, highway to hometown. The tension of their not-speaking, the run-in with the law and Casey's stupidity in what he'd said was getting to be unbearable. Would Zeke barely stop at the curb, shoving Casey out then speeding away again? Would they go back to ignoring each other at work? No more rides, partying together...
“For god's... are you crying?”
It took Zeke's asking that to make Casey realize that he had started sniffling a little, eyes filling. “I feel bad. That's all,” he admitted.
“Stop it. Okay? This isn't something to fuckin' cry over. Christ,” Zeke replied coldly. “You've gotten your head stomped in and every bone fuckin' fractured and you've never shed a tear, don't start now.”
Casey's getting bullied didn't elicit tears, mostly due to how public it'd get. Crying about it was saved for much later, perhaps after getting into bed with the lights shut off. Zeke was right-he'd never shown that weakness. He'd never felt safe enough to. Here, in the private confines of Zeke's car, he did, in a way. “I'm sorry. No, let me say it,” he said quickly when Zeke's eyes rolled and lips parted to make another angry retort. “I said shit, assumed shit I shouldn't have. It wasn't right... to think that about you, no matter who says what in school about it.”
“'K. Apology accepted,” Zeke said in a voice that emoted, 'Just shut up.' Both of them sighed heavily, as if working hard to shove the uncomfortable weight off of their chests. They stopped at the light by the plaza; Zeke glanced to it and sniffed. “Fuckin' starving.”
“Yea, well... pack a lunch.”
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn't this morning. I've needed to grocery shop for weeks now.” He checked the mirrors then shifted from the lane going straight to the left, flicking the signal to show his turning-intention.
~*~
This was odd. Odder than odd.
'I'm in Stop & Shop, grocery-shopping with Zeke... and he uses coupons,' Casey thought while watching Zeke peruse the baskets of pears. He kept picking one up, squeezing, putting it back down... over and over until he was satisfied with the five he'd chosen. The bananas came next, then oranges. For someone who didn't eat lunch, he was somewhat health-conscious, apparently. Casey paused by the apples, the Granny-Smiths in particular. He picked up the best-looking one of the pile, but put it back down.
“Grab it,” Zeke said. He nodded to the cart. “Fuck, grab two.”
“Oh... 'kay,” Casey replied, grabbing two and bagging them. They were put in the cart amongst everything else. “I can give you a buck tomorrow, or something.”
“They're on sale, you're golden,” Zeke said in a distracted voice. He was busy sorting through his little stack of coupons; after a moment he looked toward the deli counter. “C'mon.”
Casey followed dutifully and waited through Zeke's ordering a pound of turkey, pound of Swiss cheese and a large tub of multi-colored mush. When it was through and they pulled away, Casey pointed to the tub and asked, “What's that stuff?” Zeke gave him an incredulous look, saying nothing. Casey groaned. “What, I've never had it--”
“Ambrosia. Fruit, marshmallow... never had it?” Zeke shook his head and huffed. “You'll try it back at my place.”
'Huh?'... “Your place?”
“You can come over, if you want. 'Guess I didn't ask, just 'said'.”
~*~
Zeke slammed the trunk closed and picked up the bags he'd set on the driveway. “C'mon.”
“Heavy,” Casey muttered. The three bulging bags on each arm made him slump, his bones already aching from work enough. He didn't make any more complaints as they went to the side door of Zeke's large home. “You... got a nice place,” Casey said between huffs and puffs.
“Yea, s'all right,” Zeke said. Again, he set his things down to key the door open, then ventured inside. Casey followed; he was led into the giant kitchen, not as big as Ben's but still more than substantial. Zeke plopped the bags down on the wide expanse of the counter by the sink then nodded to the kitchen island. “Dump that stuff there.”
Casey, feeling like unpaid hired help but amused at the same time, did so. His muscles relaxed when his arms were freed of the weight. “So... you do the shopping around here, huh?”
“Who else is gonna do it? Aw, shit...” Zeke groaned when his flicking the light-switch did nothing. “Knew that one was on its way out.”
It was still so weird. Casey stared after Zeke, who'd disappeared into his pantry then returned with a light-bulb and screwdriver. He got underneath the glass orb covering the bulb and bit his lip. Looking extremely reluctant, he pulled a kitchen chair over slowly. “Hate this shit,” he said.
“Changing bulbs?”
“Heights.”
Casey cocked an eyebrow. “You're... afraid of heights?”
With a determined look forming on Zeke's face, he stepped onto the chair with one foot, then rose up with the other planting down hard. His nose twitched a few times, lip being clenched between his teeth. “Sh-Shit. Case, just... hold the chair, will ya?”
It was a mix of amusement and aww... for Casey, who put both hands onto the chair's back. “Holding,” he said, just as he realized he was eye level with Zeke's groin.
“Th-Thanks,” Zeke stuttered again. He reached up to the glass to unscrew the covering while Casey watched on.
“You're fine, I gotcha,” he said.
“I've... seen you in g-gym. You can't catch a football thrown four feet in front of you, never mind a one-hundred-and-ninety pound guy falling to his death.”
Though he was being teased, Casey had a few tricks of his own in seeing this new facet of Zeke. “Yea, this really is walking a tightrope, huh? You're less than four feet off the ground, keep teasing.”
“Mmm... I was about ten, right?” Zeke said as he got the last screw undone. He handed Casey the glass then let out a nervous-sounding huff as he reached up again with the new bulb. “We were at my aunt's place. My c-cousin Tim had a treehouse. It was awesome at first... 'til the little fuckin' prick thought he'd be funny in pushing me from the goddamned thing.”
Casey couldn't help the gawking. “He pushed you from a fucking treehouse?”
“He was kidding around, j-just pushed me harder than he'd planned. Got... a few ribs fractured, broken ankle...” Zeke paused to let out a series of shaky breaths. The dead bulb was removed, the new one being screwed in. “...Since then, me and h-heights, we don't... get a-along.”
“Okay, I'll shut up,” Casey said, smiling. The grin faded when he looked back down.
Did Zeke know what low-slung jeans did to boys like Casey? Never mind girls-the straightest of men could be here, staring at Zeke's soft belly, navel and top of his boxers peeking out, the bagginess of his jeans not hiding the slight curve of cock and want it, hard. Hard was what was happening on Casey's end of town at the moment. He shifted a little to secretly adjust himself, wanting to reach down quick and give himself a 'Stop it, damn you!' squeeze. Looking away would do the trick so he did, focusing back on Zeke's actions above. It ended up only getting worse in gazing at the tight muscle of his outstretched arms, the long neck meant for mouthing upon, hair gone awry over his ears and nape...
“Got it,” Zeke said. He looked down quick and reached to the glass. “Let's get this done.”
'I wish,' Casey thought wistfully. He had to look away altogether, off to the side. The oven, calendar on the pantry door, muddy boots cast carelessly by the side entrance...
“Done. Fuck, I'm done.” Zeke shifted down carefully, gripping the back of the chair-inadvertently gripping Casey's hands. It shot Casey back to his present situation, that being his being here with Zeke in the first place. He was standing smack-dab in the middle of Zeke's private sanctuary, a place Casey figured not many had been in the past. As if not even noticing he'd grabbed onto the boy, Zeke stepped back to the lightswitch, flicked it and grinned at the light filling the room. “Triumph,” he said.
“Hah, yea,” Casey said.
“Help me fill the cupboards.”
Casey snorted but went with him back to the many bags lying around. “Yes, Sir,” he said. As he took the bag full of canned goods and went to the pantry, he asked, “Remind me-why AM I doing this, being your sudden butler?”
“Keeping me sane,” Zeke replied.
“Huh?”
Zeke went to the pantry with Casey; as he loaded the middle shelf with cereals, oatmeal and other dry goods, he said, “It makes me feel less alone.”
Someone could stab Casey a hundred times with a butcher knife and he'd feel less pain in his chest. His heart thudded and thumped, the urge to take Zeke in his arms and just hold him immense. They were already in this small, enclosed space, allowing Casey to catch the scent of Zeke's sweat and faded-but-there cologne. Or soap... “I don't do anything after work, most of the time,” he said. With a shrug, he continued, “I can come by whenever you need the company.”
“Might be nice.”
“Mmm.”
They continued on together, idle chatter filling the void that Zeke usually had to deal with being alone in this large, empty house. The way their voices echoed made it feel like they were in a cave; Casey could only imagine what those occasional bumps-in-the-night sounded like when you were alone. When they finished, Zeke went to the bag he hadn't unpacked yet; the deli items. The meat and cheese was put away, but the colorful tub stayed in his hand. “Now... for one of my favorite things in the world,” he said while getting two bowls and two spoons out for them. “Easy to make, but I'm lazy.”
Casey smiled and went over to stand next to the boy, who popped the lid free and began spooning out two large servings. The sudden sweet, fruity aroma hit Casey's nostrils like a battering-ram. “Wow... DOES smell awesome,” he said.
“Good boy, good boy,” Zeke said, grinning like an idiot.
~*~
“Yea, loads. Beat now,” Casey answered his mother's question, Did you have fun at your friend's? He left out the bits involving the ride home, the law and speeding tickets, of course. After that, he'd yawned his way upstairs.
It HAD been ambrosia, that ambrosia. When he'd called home to say he wouldn't be home for dinner, he'd assured Mrs. Connor that he'd be well-fed. She didn't have to know that dinner consisted of pile after pile of the creamy, fruity dessert, a few colas and inhaling the countless cigarettes Zeke had smoked. It'd been a great pick-me-up, the sugar high keeping him hyper-alert during his visit.
“So, no Becca, huh?”
“No, no Becca.”
“You might be missing out, y'know. She's all but tearing her clothes off and giving you her panties as a trophy.”
Casey had made shrill giggles throughout their conversation-or conversation-s, many subjects getting touched on. Zeke, spoon-sucking the cream-dream from his spoon, really had no-fucking-clue about what Casey really wanted. If he did, he wouldn't have thrown off his shirt and stretched his long, beautiful legs out over the coffee table like he did, making the most tempting display out of his body that Casey could imagine without his shucking the jeans off. It was a dangerous weapon, that boy, full of everything sexy and touchable.
When it'd turned eight o'clock, Casey had made his leave. Zeke had offered a ride, but Casey needed the cooled-down night air and time to think-reflect, again. The smile Zeke had made while saying, “Thanks... I had fun,” didn't have any hint of the usual derision or sarcasm. It was the kind of smile Casey had yearned to see Zeke make for years now, and he'd finally gotten it.
There was nothing for it; once again, he'd cleaned up, changed into a pair of boxers and laid himself in bed, over the sheets this time. The need to stare at his own body, encased in the moonlight pouring into his room was too strong. 'He doesn't want this... even though its his,' he thought of every inch, from top-to-toe he owned. Zeke held the deed to every fantasy, want and pore-all he'd have to do was claim it for everything to come together.
He wouldn't. Never in a million years would Zeke want to touch Casey's bony, boyish frame that refused to become a man. He had the hair in all the right places, and he wasn't exactly small when it came to what sat between his legs, but all outward, acceptable places people could see of him showed nothing but boy, boy, little, little boy...
Zeke didn't own Casey's thoughts. That was the one saving grace, and the one of many stabs in Casey's side. If Zeke could, in fact, crawl into Casey's brain and flick the 'Zeke Fantasy' switch, perhaps Casey's longing for him would die out, never to return. Never to hurt. Everyone Casey knew had been hurt, but they'd fill the void with new loves who'd heal that sorrow. Casey had only the lonely, never-been-kissed side of teenage-life, no contrast to know if falling in love and having it returned was worth the risk.
There was only this... his own hands emulating what he wanted someone else's to do, again. At least he had today's memories of Zeke's honest, happy smiles, and his actual wanting Casey around. That was almost enough, with or without imagining more, to bring him off.